Friday, April 13, 2007

A Theology of Littleness

Pope Benedict XVI and G.K. Chesterton are two authors whose writings always seem to "feed" me - they're uplifting, encouraging and remind me not to take myself too seriously. I often blog on their writings here, but thought I'd try to share some short passages regularly with Love2learn readers. I'm currently reading Salt of the Earth: The Church at the End of the Millennium, an interview between Cardinal Ratzinger and author Peter Seewald dating from 1996...

Q. "Whoever can be as small as this child", it says in the New Testament in Matthew, "is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven."

A. The theology of littleness is a basic category of Christianity. After all, the tenor of our faith is that God's distinctive greatness is revealed precisely in powerlessness. That in the long run, the strength of history is precisely in those who love, which is to say, in a strength that, properly speaking, cannot be measured according to categories of power. So in order to show who he is, God consciously revealed himself in the powerlessness of Nazareth and Golgotha. Thus, it is not the one who can destroy the most who is the most powerful...but, on the contrary, the least power of love is already greater than the greatest power of destruction.

And here are a few related excerpts from G.K. Chesterton's The Everlasting Man...more aimed at the Christmas story, but certainly very pertinent to Easter week...

A mass of legend and literature, which increases and will never end, has repeated and rung the changes on that single paradox; that the hands that had made the sun and stars were too small to reach the huge heads of the cattle. Upon this paradox, we might almost say upon this jest, all the literature of our faith is founded...

I mean that all the eyes of wonder and worship which had been turned outwards to the largest thing were now turned inward to the smallest...

It is true that the spiritual spiral henceforward works inwards instead of outwards, and in that sense is centripical and not centrifugal. The faith becomes, in more ways than one, a religion of little things.